Duke Ellington: The Duke: The Columbia Years 1927-1962 [BOX SET]

Duke Ellington: The Duke: The Columbia Years 1927-1962 [BOX SET] [ORIGINAL RECORDING REMASTERED]

It finally arrived, and I’m now one happy ducky. As you can probably tell, I’ve been bingeing on Ellington a bit lately. I now have quite a few excellent albums, and of course, there are plenty more to get. Ellington is one of those artists who continually surprise you with excellent music. His career was so long, and he did such diverse work, there’s always something for everyone.
This collection is neat because it offers some excellently remastered old faves (I’m especially happy to have a decent quality version of It don’t mean a thing (1932)), but also some more recent stuff – especially some nice 50s stuff which I didn’t have. I’m still not sure I feel entirely comfortable with the heavy duty high hat action in this stuff, but you can’t deny the standard of musicianship in some of these amazing recordings. The quality isn’t always better (I have some heinous Blanton-Webster Ellington stuff), but you get some great music.
Personally, I’d much rather dance old school, to that late 20s, 30s and some 40s stuff (depends on who and what it is, though – I adore Hampton, and he tends to sit in that later moment – 40s and 50s), but I do like to DJ across the board. And when you’re not dancing – you’re DJing – it’s easier to handle the 50s stuff at a dance. Pity the dancers, though…
Well, actually, most dancers don’t really mind – beginners are certainly the least picky in regards to specific eras, and most of the more tolerant experienced dancers would simply rather we played goodmusic than stuck religiously to one era… unless we can DJ well within that era.
As a DJ, I do actually like to play a wider range of stuff, if only to save my brain having to deal with balancing the levels of all-scratch, all the time.

Duke Ellington and his orchestra 1949-1950

Duke Ellington and his orchestra 1949-1950.
A chronological classic, so we’re listening to a comprehensive overview of a particular period, but not truly excellent quality. I picked this sweety up a few weeks ago (again from caiman.com, via amazon – fabulously quick delivery and cheap) so as to secure myself a whole album’s worth of stuff like B-Sharp Boston, a song Doz got me onto.
It’s neat stuff. I wasn’t really all that aware of Ellinton’s more mainstream stuff from the late 40s/early 50s – I have a bit of it, but it’s stuff on compilations or overviews of his career, so I’ve not listened to it in isolation. I also have to say that I’m always distracted by the earlier stuff – I am passionate about very late 20s and early 30s (1928-1931 mostly) Ellington – and find it difficult to move past songs like Flaming Youth and Rockin’ in Rhythm. Which is probably why I find it difficult to DJ a lot of later Ellington – I simply don’t know it as well.
…that’s actually an exaggeration – I do play quite a bit of early 40s Ellington. And love it.
So anyway, back to the early 50s Ellington.
I like this stuff. When it’s not veering off into artyfarty stuff, there’s good dancing action on there. I think I like Joog Joog because it manages to use that big vocal sound Ellington liked for his stage shows with accessible ‘swing vocals’ – so you get the singer from Creole Love Call (sorry, I’ve forgotten her name, and I don’t have it in the laptop yet) teamed up with someone poppier, and you get a rockingly good pop song.
So, as far as DJable music goes, this is a goody – a few I’d happily play for dancers (and have – and had them go down well), plus some arty stuff purely for your own listening pleasure.
Two thumbs.

the wrong sort of bounce

I’m sitting in my office listening to some straight-ahead swinging Ellington on headphones, watching a young African dood kicking a soccer ball around outside the Muslim prayer room. He’s jogging back and forth at about 140 bpm and I really want to be out there with him, running about and having fun, rather than stuck in here waiting for students to come avail themselves of my office hour.
Off behind him there are a couple of fatties smoking and chatting. They should be kicking that soccer ball too.
Watching this guy jogging about on the concrete in time to Joog Joog (currently favourite song – 1949 from the chronological classics Duke Ellington 1949-1950) reminds me of how lindy hop – jazz dances – are all about that relaxed, ground-eating, bouncy jogging motion. It’s about bending your knees, sinking into the floor and pushing up again. It’s about loose limbs, being strong in your core, getting into the ground…
And it doesn’t work to groover swing (Jersey Bounce, Ella, 1961 Clap Hands, Here Comes Charlie)) – it encourages the wrong sort of bounce.

let’s leave telly behind for a while

I spend quite a few hours each week talking to young people about media. I begin every class asking them what sorts of media they’ve consumed this week (and that’s how I say it, because I like the thought of these fierce 20 somethings leaping onto BB or Women’s Weekly and devouring it – critically or no).
There’s much enthusiasm (this has been a surprisingly – satisfyingly – effective teaching tool), but all I can ever think to talk about is Smallville.I think it’s because I’m somehow still stuck at that point where the television = media. It’s certainly not the center of my media world.
I do watch a lot of [i]Smallville[/i], but I also watch broadcast telly. And other DVDs.
I listen to the radio online – the ABC almost exclusively, and Radio National specifically. I do listen to some lindy hop talk shows and music shows, but the ABC always scores the greater portion of my time.
I read the news online, through various websites.
I read blogs, academic and otherwise.
I read, voraciously, insatiably – I read over breakfast (half an hour at least), on the bus (an hour each way), in breaks, and at bedtime (at least an hour or two). I am a reading machine. And I only read science fiction or fantasy.
I do work reading – I read articles, books, magazines, journals, websites.
I haven’t seen a film in a while, but I do love the cinema. When I’m not so busy…
And I listen to music every day. I’ve just discovered The Squeeze’s ipod, and that’s neat. Though I mostly listen to the ABC, I have found it a neat tool for previewing my music for DJing. I don’t have time to sit on the couch and mull over my laptop any more – I have to listen to music on the bus. This isn’t an ideal arrangement for DJ preparation, as the sound quality on the ipod is very different to a night club system. And different to the stereo at home. When you’re dealing with old music, quality is all. But it’s also a matter of intimacy – it might sound neat on my ipod, locked away in that little sound bubble on the bus, but it mightn’t really work in a crowded room full of manic dancers.
But I don’t talk about this with my students. I’m not sure why. Perhaps I’m trying to keep this part of my everyday private. Maybe I’m self conscious. Or perhaps I’ve bought that DJ bullshit where ‘only DJs understand’, or rather, where we assume DJs listen to music in a unique way. Poppycock.
But I do know that it’s difficul to explain the pleasures of swinging jazz to 20 something media students. It’s difficult to articulate to non-dancers, to non-jazz dancers, the absolute delight we find in the jumpy, fun, wickedly naughty humour 1920s and 30s pop music. It’s certainly difficult to explain why the saucy innuendo is such a source of delight, and I wonder if that is because young people today (bah humbug) are more conservative, more prudish than the young of the 20s and 30s? It makes me wonder if that’s why I like nannas so much – they’re far naughtier than these youngsters.
This week I’ll test it out. We might talk about music this week, and leave telly behind for a while. I’ll try to tune in and let you know how it goes.

i’d do something like this

I’m sorry I haven’t had anything interesting to say in a while. I know you’re disappointed, especially after my recent rush on Terribly Clever entries. It’s just that I’ve been insanely busy lately. In fact, I remember the days where I had two – no, one! – whole day with no work to do. No thesis leftovers to tidy (helloooo CD of clips – you’d better appreciate this Markers), no teaching admin., no MLX crap to do, no giant holes to fill in in the back yard (more on this later), no week’s-worth-of-laundry to catch up on, no grocery shopping to do, no writing-up grants to apply for, no journal articles to edit and send back to the editors, no conference papers to write, no… you get the point.
I’d just like two whole days in a row with nothing for me to do. I’d go to lunch at a pub with a friend I’ve had to put off exactly three (or is it four?) weeks in a row. I’d go to breakfast at a cafe with The Squeeze. I’d do something like this:

remember to breathe

Because it is Friday night and I’m huddled under a pathetically thin home made quilt in the lounge room (where I would usually lounge, but am currently huddled over the warmth of my lappy) wishing I knew how to light the pilot light on the heater (yes, I know, I know, learned helplessness = crap) and waiting for The Squeeze to come home and cook me dinner (look, alright, I do realise what this implies about me) prior to my going dancing for the first time in ages, I’m taking time to write crappy blog posts.
I’m also listening to a new Duke Ellington CD (oh, alright, it’s this one: ). I adore small group action (see my previous post on Benny Goodman’s small groups), and this is no exception. I am pleased.
I’ve also had my imagination caught by ducky’s Remember To Breath meme (over here).
It seems like the sort of exercise I’m into. So here are some things that make me happy:
1. making extremely lame dad jokes to a class full of teenagers, who then groan. I’d like to think it has something to do with my reclaiming the power of pun from the patriarchy, but it has more to do with simple humour and protuding funny bones. I have only one thing to say: “it’s not a tutor!”.
2. doing silly made up dances in the hallway for my own entertainment. These are not, in any way, cool or technically sophisticated works of art. They are silly dances which make me puff and feel lovely.
3. laughing like an idiot on the bus listening to the Media Report – it’s not cool, it’s nerdy, and it makes me feel ace.
4. re-reading Robin McKinley books. Also, re-reading a wind in cairo by Judith Tarr. It has horses and deserts in it, so I love it. Unfortunately, I have read it so many times I know each word by heart. But that’s not the point, is it?
5. chick flicks, especially ones with cheerleaders in them. I have no excuse – I just LOVE that shit.
6. doing things like this in the park:
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and then having things like this happen:
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(that’s my Squeeze there – isn’t he fine?)
7. having breakfast at a cafe with That Squeeze, reading the paper while he does the crossword, having the nice waitress bring us our drinks without us ordering (we are Regulars), and then not having to remember to specify scrambled eggs.
8. riding somewhere with The Squeeze, telling each other stupid stories like this one, laughing a lot and feeling the endorphines and adrenaline pumping through me as we ride down a hill.
9. riding anywhere at speed, when I’m feeling pumped. There is nothing, nothing finer.
10. going to yoga on Wednesday mornings with the older kids. I love that shit. I love the way they make me laugh, I love doing the yoga thing and feeling my body really work. I love talking after class, I love the teasing, I love riding up to Sugar Dough for lunch afterwards. I love all of that very much.
— I have to add more, because there are lots of wonderful things that I have to mention.–
11. listening to albums like this one (especially songs like ‘Rigamarole’, ‘Viper’s Moan’ and ‘Chimes at the meeting’), or stuff by bands like the McKinney’s Cotton Pickers – bands that are really fiery but serious fun as well – sassy stuff, where the musicians yell out with excitement – can’t contain themselves when the music really COOKS – mid-song. It just makes me feel great inside – all jiggly and excited.
12. watching clips of amazing dancers from the 30s and 40s – that rocks. I look at stuff like this:

and I just get so excited – that is some SERIOUSLY great stuff.
…oh, I could go on and on and on. But The Squeeze is home and we have to go swap stories of our day.
What are the little things that make you feel good?

battle by literature review

“So when you’ve done all this excellent reading, when you really know what you’re talking about, you’ve got to really make it work for you in your essay – you’ve got to BRING IT!”
You have to ask yourself, what sort of literature review would Frida do?

the tyranny of distance: audiences and performers/texts in high and low art forms

Laura has asked an interesting question here on a previous post:

…I would like to ask a question about “the everyday”, in those CS quote marks – is consumption of canonical or high art an everyday activity, and if it isn’t what is it? Posted by: Laura at August 7, 2006 03:30 PM

I think the man to answer this question is right up there in the cs canon (or at least the audience studies canon). Take it away Henry Jenkins
I skip about a bit in the next part of this post (I’m a bit distracted, so I can’t really take time to formulate a sensible argument)…
I think the key point (in my approach, anyhoo) is not so much the nature of the actual text or practice, but the way it is institutionalised, commodified and ‘valued’ by various cultural and social forces.
I’ve been looking at this issue in reference to dance (of course), comparing the way ballet and vernacular dances like hip hop or breaking are approached by audiences.
[In an aside, the discussions on wikipedia’s project dance (esp the talk pages) – people want to capitalise the names of specific ballet choreographies, but aren’t so sure about how to capitalise vernacular dances like lindy or hip hop].
I’ve also noticed that the way swing dancers – DJs in particular – approach jazz is quite different to the way the genre is approached by jazzniks. One of the clearest and nicest illustrations of how different groups imagine jazz lies in the way Bennett’s Lane puts on gigs (Bennett’s Lane is a well respected local jazz venue – devoted to ‘quality’ jazz). They are very strict about noise during performances, and do NOT allow dancing. This is such a strange and bizarre contrast to the way jazz functioned socially in the 20s, 30s and 40s – it was pub music. It’s also a serious contrast to the way I experience and enjoy jazz at the Laundry in Fitzroy on Saturday afternoons: it’s loud, it’s full of smoke and drinkers, the band members will get down off the stage and kick audience arse if they give them trouble. They don’t care if we dance, and there is – as a consequence – a really exciting and dynamic relationship between dancers, musicians and audience at these gigs.
But at Bennett’s Lane (and other venues around the place), there’s a definite positioning of jazz as ‘art’, which must be ‘appreciated’ from a distance, rather than enjoyed with the body, up close and personal. There are quite culturally specific ways of demonstrating appreciation going on. Just as Jenkins noted that Checkhov fans used different language to describe their interest in theatre, there are clear differences in the way certain groups approach jazz and music.
Here’s a quote from chapter one of my thesis about the relationship between audiences and performers, audiences and texts in dance:

Considering dance, whether vernacular dance or performance dance, as a public discourse, allows us to analyse it for ideological content, for the ways in which identity markers such as class, gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, age and so on are represented and valued by a particular community of people. Reading vernacular dance as everyday discourse encourages us to see social dance as an exchange of ideas, and as a site for the negotiation of identity and social relations between individuals and groups within a community. I draw clear distinctions between vernacular dance traditions, where dance occurs in everyday spaces, between ordinary people, and concert or performance dance traditions, where dance is relegated to particular ‘dance spaces’ which are separate from the everyday spaces of a community. Ward makes this distinction: “there is a categorical divide between dancers and the audience in performance dance …that does not exist between dancers and spectators in social dance, where those roles are interchangeable” (18). I read this dynamic relationship between the roles of ‘spectator’ and ‘dancer’ in social or vernacular dance as a clear example not only of call-and-response, but also of the ways in which readers participate in the making of meaning in textual interpretation. (pg5)

Later on I add this:

The word ‘vernacular’ in a discussion of dance refers to the everyday or ordinary, common dance of a particular group or culture. Vernacular dance is distinguished from concert or theatre dance through its positioning in everyday spaces, rather than existing only as a formalised, and usually choreographed, performance of a particular dance on a concert stage. Vernacular dance is intrinsically participatory and happens in all sorts of spaces, both public and private. It is also necessarily mutable and reflexive, responding to the cultural needs of its performers. (pg9)

I wonder if one of the key differences between ‘low’ and ‘high’ cultural forms and practices is this issue of distance – there is (in Western culture …?) a divide between the audience and text/practice in high art forms, whereas the ‘low’ forms encourage close proximity between audiences and texts – you have only to consider the Big Brother website and voting system to see how particular industries and textual forms encourage audiences to get close to texts. If only so that they can be more easily targetted by advertisers.
It can’t be an accident that high art forms like ballet and opera have trouble keeping audience numbers up, and that various marketing strategies that aim to make these sorts of forms more approachable to wider audiences are at once endorsed, yet also regarded with some suspicion by those sections of our community which have a vested interest in maintaining social heirarchies.
…there’s a good article by Joann Kealiinohomoku on reading ballet as an ‘ethnic’ dance that examines how race and class work in high and low art form (and in anthropological approaches to ‘culture’ and ‘society’): Kealiinohomoku, Joann. “An Anthropologist Looks at Ballet as a Form of Ethnic Dance.” What Is Dance? Readings in Theory and Criticism. Eds. Roger Copeland and Marshall Cohen. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1983. 533 – 49.